


Never Again

by haku23



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Gender Changes, F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-23
Updated: 2013-07-23
Packaged: 2017-12-21 01:55:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,196
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/894434
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/haku23/pseuds/haku23
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Being a woman is different now than it was in the '40s-different rules, different clothes, and different ideas on how much body hair a woman should rightly have. This mostly focuses on the last one.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Never Again

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: blah blah blah having hair on your labia is normal and it's normal if you get rid of it you do you, etc etc. 
> 
> This was written for a prompt over on the stevebucky fest on dreamwidth! You should definitely check it out because there are plenty of prompts and cool stuff over there!

He's nothing worth writing home about but he tells Bucky-weird name for a girl, it's just a nickname-that she's beautiful, kisses her until she's drunk off of it, and there's an itch under her skin that the shower head and modern technology can't scratch so here she is letting this guy take her home. Maybe she should've been cautious but the guy can't be more than six foot and Bucky's taken down guys with more than just a few inches on her.

 

She doesn't note much about his apartment except that it exists and he pulls his hand away from the small of her back to head for the kitchen. She shoves her hand down his pants while he's asking her if she wants something to drink because if she doesn't do it quick she'll lose her nerve. He calls her a slut for it and maybe it's meant as a compliment-he smiles while he says it, lets her take his cock out of his jeans-but she feels it like a cold slap. She keeps at it anyway, lets him do what he wants until he pulls her hair too hard.

 

“Girls like it,” he says like it's an explanation, like _all_ girls like it and Bucky nods and goes back to sucking him off.

 

It's a means to an end anyway. She stops just before he's finished, backs up, lets him push her against the wall and whisper hurriedly that he's got a bed, you know.

 

He does. He kisses her too hard now, feverishly, rubs her through her skinny jeans until she finally arches into his hand just so he takes them off. Natasha had taken her shopping once SHIELD had let her out, just the two of them and a too-small changing room, told her how women dressed now, how to make herself look like one of them. Like someone who isn't dangerous, like just a pretty face. They'd spent a disproportionate amount of time searching for underwear-panties they called them now-with how they are so many choices-thongs, mid-coverage, 'granny' panties, see-through, lacey, satin-and in the end she'd just gone for the softest ones that feel most comfortable.

 

He runs his hands over the soft material of her panties, tells her she's wet and she just makes a noise of encouragement in the hopes that he continues.

 

When he pulls them down he gives her a look, “are you serious?”

 

“What?”

 

“Are you some kind of...hippie or something because there's no way I'm going anywhere near that bush. Have you heard of a Brazilian or what?”

 

He laughs then and she fakes one convincingly enough that he kisses her again. She makes a joke about not knowing that she'd need to shave, keeps the other parts of her that are unnatural away from his eyes even though the arm blends seamlessly with her real flesh. He doesn't go down on her or touch her at all-she wonders when common courtesy and foreplay had gone out of style-but he still fucks her so she doesn't ask.

 

Afterwards he tells her again how weird it is that she has hair, asks her if she's some kind of _feminazi_ or something, and feeds her some line about having an early morning, that he'll call her when she takes offence to the Nazi part. Bucky grabs her pants and boots and goes.

 

Steph will be waiting up for her back at the apartment in spite of the hour-the television or radio on, a glass of milk on the table in front of her, wrapped in the robe that Tony had bought her back when he'd been trying to get into her pants. The thought makes her walk faster even if she won't tell the whole truth about where she'd been.

 

The subway ride home doesn't last long but it's long enough with how a group of guys keep ogling her. When she asks them if they got a problem they make like they'll come over until a man with a briefcase tells them to lay off, tells her she ought to be more careful once they get off. It makes her clench her fists because they're the ones who ought to be more careful with who they make eyes and lewd comments to but she stays quiet, blends in. By the time she reaches the apartment her heart hammers too quickly in her chest and her palms sweat in spite of the cool fall breeze.

 

“You're home awful late,” Steph comments, raising an eyebrow from where she sits on the couch watching a re-run of Extreme Makeover: Home Edition, “meet someone nice?”

 

“Nice enough, sure.”

 

“Hey, c'mere,” she stands, the robe just too small that it doesn't fully cover her chest, and Bucky goes, shoves face into her shoulder, “you're home, you're safe.”

 

“Didn't have to wait up, y'know,” her good hand creeps around Steph's waist, holds her in place because she smells the same as the girl in her memories, fuzzy as they are, had.

 

Her fingers-never delicate, not with how she throws the shield, sketches constantly-card through Bucky's hair, “I wanted to. Someone's gotta make sure you don't beat anyone up.”

 

“Yeah, well.”

 

“You hungry?”

 

“Just tired,” she says and Steph hesitates at her bedroom door before inviting Bucky in.

 

Steph's room is a mess of sketchbooks, newspaper clippings about the Avengers she keeps pinned to a cork board, and a still life scene of a vase of wilting flowers by the window. Her bed is the only thing in order with the same tight corners as they'd both observed in Lehigh and the shield tucked against her side of it, in easy reach. She flicks on the light by the door only long enough for the pair of them to get undressed down to their underwear then claps to turn it off.

 

“You like that thing too much,” Bucky comments, nuzzles back into the spot where neck and shoulder meet, “Stark'll get the wrong idea.”

 

“I already gave him the right one.”

 

She relaxes into the hand rubbing up and down her bare back, lets her ease the tension in her shoulders, and sighs when Steph pulls her close enough that their chests are pressed together. Steph's always been small in the chest department and the serum hadn't helped much-if anything it'd made her smaller with how she'd gained so much muscle but it's enough, always been just enough for Bucky to get a handful back when they'd been just girls discovering their bodies. Before Bucky'd gone and died and ghosts of the war, of now got their claws into them both.

 

“He ain't good enough for you.”

 

“If you had it your way, no one would be,” she says, her breath steady in Bucky's ear.

 

“Damn right. The guys around here...they ain't worth a second of your time, Steph.”

 

“I dunno,” she presses her lips against Bucky's ear, laughs lightly, “seemed good enough for a couple hours of yours.”

 

It stings and Steph doesn't know it does so Bucky huffs out a laugh, “yeah well I ain't you, got it?”

 

“C'mon, Buck, you know I didn't mean it like that. It's not like I'm calling you a hussy or anything,” she kisses her again and Bucky makes a noise of assent.

 

“No one says hussy anymore y'know.”

 

“I do.”

 

“Oh shut up, I mean like _real_ future people.”

 

Steph pulls back, “ _you_ shut up, I'm a 100% real future person.”

 

“That why you still follow beauty tips from those vintage sites?” she smiles though she doubts Steph can see it, “and refuse to use a dryer?”

 

“I like the way they look, jerk!” she moves to push Bucky onto her back but not quickly enough to counter Bucky's attack. She looks up at her, her grinning features outlined by moonlight that manages to creep in through the open blinds, “and nothing smells better than clothes hung out to dry.”

 

“You just say that cause you don't wanna pay a quarter, there ain't nothing good smelling about Brooklyn air.”

 

She kisses her quickly-just a peck-and Steph chases her lips with her own, “Bucky.”

 

“That's my name.”

 

“No it's not,” she says, pulls her down against her so that they're pressed front to front again and Bucky can feel her soft, unscarred, perfect skin under her own, can feel how her breasts yield under Bucky's.

 

“May as well be.”

 

Her mouth is hot, a little dry but her tongue meets Bucky's anyhow and they don't stop. Not when Steph whimpers and says 'Bucky' again in that same reverent, pleading tone that makes arousal spike in her abdomen, not when Bucky's hands and mouth find her small breasts and nipples, or when she pulls down her plain white underwear and her tongue finds her clit too. Steph has hair-fine, soft blonde hair that Bucky spends time nosing around because the scent of her gets caught there and just smelling her makes Bucky want to slide her hand into her own underwear and rub her fingers against her entrance until she pushes away how that guy's comments had gotten under her skin.

 

She licks at her lips, tongue finding every spot that makes Steph make little muffled noises of pleasure, sucks her clit until she presses herself into Bucky's mouth, until she comes with a barely there cry and sags into the mattress.

 

“C'mere,” she whispers, “Buck, c'mere.”

 

She goes of course, kisses her until they're even more breathless and Bucky can feel how wet she is because it makes Steph shudder with how she can taste herself on Bucky's tongue. Steph's hands slide down her back, tracing over where metal meets skin even though the cloaking mechanism is still on.

 

“Let me?” her fingertips brush the top of Bucky's underwear and slide past until she has a handful of her bare ass. Her hands are so warm and she feels every callous over her skin but she can't let her near. Not with how she looks like a hippie-she doesn't know what that means but it's not good.

 

“Nah, not tonight, alright?” she waits for Steph to ask why not, to sigh but she doesn't.

 

“Alright,” she says and moves both hands to cup Bucky's face before pressing their lips together softly again, “alright.”

 

~~**~~

 

She asks Natasha what the hell he'd meant about a Brazilian and to her credit, Natasha doesn't laugh. She tells her it's a wax to take off all of the hair that some men find unattractive, tells her that not all future women do it because it will hurt like a son of a bitch. But she still finds her a place that will do it for her and waits outside for her to be finished.

 

Bucky wonders when the hell having hair had become weird. Asks Natasha why they think God put hair there if they're supposed shave it off and then she _does_ laugh, says she doesn't know. Natasha has hair. Not a lot, but enough to see that it's there and Bucky doesn't let her touch because it _hurts_ still but they lie in bed, arms touching. She asks her what she's supposed to do now, where _they_ go from here because she's not a two-timer and Natasha says she doesn't know. Her lips and breasts are soft, her hands too but her fingers still grip Bucky's wrist strong enough to leave bruises that they don't notice until the next morning.

 

Steph will be waiting for her at home, wondering where's she gotten to maybe except that tries not to pry, tries not to dig her way into Bucky's life anymore. Bucky goes to the movies with Natasha, kisses her in the theatre when the lights dim and they're safe in the darkness, and stays the night again.

 

~~**~~

 

The alarm goes off exactly an hour before Steph falls asleep having spent the majority of the night staring at the same three re-runs of Say Yes to the Dress even though the idea of spending that much on a dress for one day is beyond her comprehension. Bucky still hasn't come home even after a week and a half and so she suits up and goes without saying goodbye.

 

When she gets to the scene there are four rock golems that have some sort of vendetta against New York as a whole. They've caused damage to at least ten buildings-Tony is already chattering in her ear about how _that's_ going to cost a pretty penny also hey Cap, sleep in?-and she formulates a plan of attack.

 

“Hawkeye, I need you on the rooftops-you got those exploding arrows? Well now's the time to use 'em. Iron Man-blast them whenever you get an opening and try not to destroy anything else in the process, Widow, Bucky I need you running interference on the streets. There are people trapped in these buildings, let's try to get 'em out of there as soon as we can.”

 

Destroying the things isn't as easy as just blowing them up. Hawkeye shoots an arrow and it promptly bounces off leaving it to explode in the middle of the street so that Tony sighs a number in the thousands that he'll have to pay to fix that. The shield similarly bounces off and she manages to just get out of the way before one launches itself at her.

 

“What the hell are these things _made_ of?” Tony deflects one of their fists, “seriously, can we wrap this up or do I have to invent something new to pay for this?”

 

“C'mon, Stark, I thought that's what you were good at,” Bucky quips, “cause it sure as hell ain't getting rid of these things.”

 

“Cap, control your woman, I can't work under these conditions.”

 

“Enough, the two of you,” she slams her shield against one of the golem's faces, “Iron Man, you got Banner's number?”

 

“Does Starbucks compare to my coffee? Don't answer that.”

 

They call in Banner who says something about being in the middle of a very important lab report but still smashes the things to smithereens anyway. Steph promises him he'll have the next one off but he just shakes his head, “a little exercise never hurt anybody.”

 

The team goes out for food after they make a statement to the press and Steph devours her deluxe pizza with little grace or poise while Bucky picks at hers then hands the rest over across the table.

 

“So,” Tony says around a mouthful of food, gestures to the two of them, “you two break up or what because I'm feeling tension.”

 

None of them says anything until Bruce clears his throat, “did you guys hear about them discovering another pink dolphin? Pretty cool, right?”

 

The table stays quiet and he continues, “scientifically I mean.”

 

“Well they do say dolphins are just gay sharks,” Clint chimes in, looks to Natasha who has her best stare levelled at him, “what? It's true. Dolphins are totally gay.”

 

“He's...not wrong. Even if I would've,” Bruce pushes his glasses up his nose, “worded it a bit better. Dolphins occasionally engage in homosexual behaviour which is...”

 

“Pretty cool, scientifically,” Tony finishes for him, “why am I the bad guy for asking the question by the way or is this another one of those 'you just don't get it, Tony' things?”

 

“It's one of those if you don't shut you're trap I'll shut it for you, Stark, things,” Bucky snaps, gets to her feet.

 

“This is a team issue, I'm part of the team. Really, I'm afraid for my life out there, anybody else?” he looks around the table.

 

“I'm afraid for your life too,” Clint takes a swig of his beer and glances from Steph's end of the table and Tony's.

 

“It ain't any of your business, Stark, got it?”

 

Bucky is out the door before Steph even gets to her feet.

 

She hears Tony asking _what?_ I just asked a question! Before the door closes behind her and she makes a mental note to talk to him later about what is and is not appropriate to ask a coworker that isn't Pepper. And even sometimes Pepper.

 

The street is packed but Bucky stands out thanks to how she's not even trying to go with the flow of foot traffic so it doesn't take more than a few seconds to find her and catch up.

 

“He's just being annoying,” she falls into step beside her, “Buck-”

 

“You save his ass all those times and he still treats you like that?”

 

Bucky doesn't slow down but she knows where she's headed anyway-she lets her lead.

 

“It's how he treats everyone.”

 

“And that's good enough for you, huh?”

 

When they reach the part of the neighbourhood they know, the part that will lead them to the place they call home, Bucky slows enough that Steph can catch up. She wraps her hand around her wrist-the one that looks like the metal it is for once-and pulls her into an alley. “What's this all about?”

 

“He thinks he knows about us, but he doesn't. Pisses me off, that's all,” she says, her breath a harsh staccato that Steph can hear over the dulled sounds of the traffic on the street. Her voice shakes when she says it and she can see the tears welling in her eyes this close. She realizes then that can't remember the last time she'd seen Bucky cry.

 

“He thinks he knows about everyone, Buck. You've been on the team for months now, you know that,” she presses their foreheads together, “what this _really_ about?”

 

“I dunno. This.”

 

And of course it is because Steph has been so selfish, wanting her to herself, stifling her, feeling jealous whenever she goes out with a guy-even if it doesn't end well. It's not right, of course it isn't. The words lodge in her throat but she forces them out, “do you...not want to do this anymore?”

 

“I'm not good enough. All those guys-all that shit I talked about them not being good enough for you when it's me I'm worried about.”

 

She wants to laugh, does a little bit, “for _me_? Buck, c'mon, you can't really...”

 

“Look at me. You seen me lately, Steph, because I have. No one wants to make a big deal about it but I ain't-”

 

“You kidding me? I haven't been able to stop lookin' at you.”

 

It seems silly to say everything in an alley in Manhattan except that entire portions of their lives have taken place in alleys in Manhattan and so it's fitting that she kisses her here to chase away all the memories of Steph with a nose bleed and bruises, of Bucky with worse.

 

“I'm crazy about you, Buck,” she says and wraps her arms around her neck, “always have been.”

 

“We oughta get home,” her thumbs rub along the seam of the suit that runs down her chest.

 

“Yeah, I owe you something.”

 

Bucky sniffs, pulls away, wipes at her nose with the back of her glove, “Jesus. You got a hankie?”

 

“Nah, we're almost there anyway. It's not a bad look on you-makes up for all the times I was crying in alleys.”

 

They reach home-and tissues-a couple of minutes later but they don't linger in the living room long.

 

“I owe you something,” Steph says again and she sees Bucky lick her pink lips.

 

“Go on, then.”

 

She kisses her slow and careful against the door to her room, fingers finding the zipper to her costume almost immediately. She leaves it and goes for the gloves instead, pulling the finger of each off until both lie in a crumpled mess on the floor. “Sit down.”

 

Bucky sits on the edge of the bed and gives her her foot without hesitating-memories are there too of the first night after the rescue when she'd been too sore and hurt in too many places to bend over to untie her boots herself. Steph undoes the double knots, pulls the boots off, and places them by Bucky's side of the bed. She makes a face at her damp socks but pulls those off too before she presses her fingertips into the soles of her feet.

 

“This ain't exactly what I had in mind, y'know.”

 

“You got something to say?” she asks, digs into a particularly sore spot that makes her eyes flutter closed.

 

“Nothin' comes to mind.”

 

Steph moves onto the other one, finishes her quick massage then crawls onto her lap, goes for the zipper of the suit again, “I want a shower first.”

 

Bucky makes a noise Steph assumes means yes as she pulls the zipper down to her navel. Her breasts-bigger than Steph's own which had always been a source of envy-push against the now empty space and she kisses both over the suit before sliding it off of Bucky's shoulders. Bucky shifts to one side, angling the arm she calls her 'bad' one away and Steph slides her hand down both 'good' and 'bad' at the same time, marvels at their differences because all the metal arm is is an arm. She says as much and Bucky shakes her head.

 

“I mean it.”

 

“You don't gotta.”

 

Bucky is lost, she sees it now because a year ago that had been her sitting on someone's bed, telling them that she isn't beautiful, that she isn't worth much because gossip rags have gotten even more vicious. She'd cut her hair, hidden away from the world when she hadn't had work to do, contemplated things that she knew now were just the pain telling lies. They'd called it Shellshock back in the 40s but the future has a name for it too-PTSD-and she knows that SHIELD wouldn't let anyone out on the field without a psych evaluation except that they'd needed Bucky so bad, she's such a good liar that she could've slipped by without getting help. Steph had been lost and she'd been alone but Bucky isn't alone.

 

“Beauty isn't everything, Buck, you know that. Hell, if it was, I dunno why you'd even wanted to touch me back then.”

 

“You _were_ -”

 

“See what I mean?” she smiles and kisses her and Bucky pulls away to roll her eyes.

 

“Yeah, I get it, alright?”

 

She gets to her feet again even though Bucky reaches out to keep her on her lap, “I wasn't kidding about that shower. I swear I've got golem dust everywhere.”

 

“Everywhere, huh?” Bucky quirks an eyebrow, smirks like she would before the war.

 

“Guess you'll just have to join me to find out.”

 

The shower isn't a shower so much as it's an excuse for them to touch each other under the guise of washing of course. She sees the finger shaped bruises on her wrist but doesn't ask about it. Natasha and Bucky have something and she's said her piece now-all she can do is see if things work out between them or if Bucky goes back to Natasha's to stay.

 

Steph runs her hands slick with soap over Bucky's body, up over her stomach and breasts, across her collarbone then down her arm. She pushes her dark hair off of her shoulder-it's longer now than it had been when she'd first come back, closer to what it had been like back in Brooklyn when she'd put it in curlers every night. Just touching her like this, knowing that she can, makes Steph smile. Bucky's body is hard and scarred from battles she can't remember and Steph is careful not to linger too long on any part though she wants to get to her knees and kiss each mark as if doing so will erase the burden from Bucky's mind. She kisses her cheek, her nose, her lips instead until she's satisfied and Bucky calls her a sap. She washes her hair next, makes Bucky groan with just her fingertips against her scalp.

 

“Get on with it already.”

 

“Patience is a virtue.”

 

“Yeah, whatever, Sister Stephanie,” she grumbles and gets her hands on her.

 

Bucky's hands find her weak spots right away-under her jaw, where her thigh and torso meet-and abuses the knowledge thoroughly until Steph finds it hard to keep her feet. Years ago this might have been over quickly-they wouldn't have the hot water to waste-but now is different. The water and Bucky's hands leave her whole body a mass of warmth and sensitivity until she manages to turn it off.

 

“I said I owe you something,” she says and Bucky shrugs.

 

She notices then, in the steamed up bathroom, that Bucky has no hair and manages to flush in spite of how red her face already is. If she'd shaved then that meant she didn't like the hair and Steph covers herself with her hands-she'd let Bucky touch her there and the entire time she'd probably been thinking about how disgusting it was. Of course they'd touched each other down there before, back before the ice, but back then no one had shaved _everything-_ now that they did, though...

 

“What?”

 

“You uh...” she gestures because she doesn't know what else to do, “don't have any hair?”

 

“Oh.”

 

“Should _I_ -”

 

“No! Jesus. It's,” Bucky crosses her arms over her chest but Steph can't keep her eyes off of the totally smooth expanse of skin below her waist, “that guy I was with...told me it looked weird to have...”

 

“It looks weirder to have nothing. If God didn't want hair there we'd be born hairless,” she glances back to her own body, “right?”

 

“Well _yeah_. I dunno why I did it. It looks stupid.”

 

“Nah, it's just-weird is all. Is that why you didn't want me to...”

 

Bucky frowns, turns her back like that'll somehow make Steph focus on something other than her body, “stop lookin' at it, it was a stupid mistake, alright?”

 

“C'mon, it's not that bad. It'll grow back,” she goes for a towel and throws one to Bucky, “besides, if you like it like this...”

 

Bucky glowers over her shoulder, “it itches more than the first time I shaved my pits.”

 

They burst into laughter at that. She can remember the first time they'd both shaved-bought a razor to share between the two of them because it'd been so hot in their apartment they'd needed relief from the heat and then been tearing up their skin with scratching a couple of days later. Bucky looks good when she laughs and Steph stops in time to just watch her because Bucky doesn't laugh like this much anymore.

 

“C'mere, let's get to bed.”

 

The bed doesn't creak when they both flop down on it, not like the ones they'd shared back in drafty apartments, and she's on Bucky in a second.

 

“Not wastin' any time, are you?”

 

“You ever know me to waste time?” she trails her knuckle down Bucky's front, feeling the goosebumps break out in its wake.

 

“Lately?”

 

Steph pinches her side and she jumps, “one time, that was one time. In '32.”

 

“My point stands.”

 

She goes silent and focused in her task-drawing designs around each of the marks that colour Bucky's skin until they're all hidden amongst lines only she can see and only Bucky can feel. She's struck again with how she'd take them all away if she could, leave her a blank canvas again if it would ease the lines between her brows and keep the monsters away at night. But she can't and she's done enough meddling with her mind and body with the cube.

 

“Give it a rest already,” Bucky's voice is breathy, her cheeks pink, and her brown eyes even darker now, “I get it.”

 

She presses her finger inside of her, watching for any signs that she wants to stop but sees none. “You seemed to like it just fine.”

 

“Yeah, yeah, keep talkin', punk.”

 

Steph curls her finger, adds another and mimics the action slowly, “maybe I will.”

 

She presses their lips together and rubs her thumb against her clit. Bucky likes it hard-too hard sometimes-but Steph intends on making her wait even if it won't be for long. Bucky gasps into her mouth, hand curling in her hair to keep her from going too far. She likes having Steph where she can see her, where she can still bite down on her lip just enough for it to make Steph speed up the movements of her hand and so Steph stays where she is.

 

“Does it feel weird?” she asks and Steph traces the outline of her entrance before pushing her fingers inside again.

 

“Not any weirder than normal.”

 

“Shut up, you know what I mean.”

 

“Nah,” she huffs out a breath when Bucky arches into her hand, “feels good.”

 

“How good?”

 

“Buck I-” she can't find the right words for it, never can. But she knows that she's blushing, knows that her mouth is open and wet and that she can't get enough of how Bucky looks when she's laid out for her like this.

 

“That good, huh?”

 

“Can't be that good for you if you're still talking,” she presses more insistently at the spot inside of her and Bucky gasps out a sigh, throws her arm over her eyes.

 

“I'm a gifted multi-tasker. C'mon, harder, you know you wanna.”

 

She kisses her everywhere, covers the scars and invisible lines with her mouth and traces new ones on the spots that make her shiver and clench around her fingers. Her skin is smooth where Steph's has hair but it hardly registers because Bucky tastes the shower, like clean skin and arousal and it makes her skin prickle to feel her moving under her tongue. She sucks and licks every part she can reach, pushes her fingers into her at a pace she knows gets her going, and relishes the sound of Bucky swearing as she comes. Steph doesn't stop mouthing her until she stops pushing herself into Steph's hand and her hips jump at the contact-Bucky isn't the only one who likes to taste, after all.

 

“Fuck,” she says, pulls Steph up to her mouth though she's still breathing too hard to much else.

 

“I do okay?”

 

“It sound like you did just okay?”

 

“I dunno, all those Cosmos you read, I thought you might be holdin' out on me.”

 

She grabs a tendril of her hair and pulls, “those ain't mine, alright.”

 

“Well they aren't mine. And if they were I wouldn't be hiding them under gun magazines.”

 

“You keep it up and you're sleepin' on the couch.”

 

“Oh yeah? And how long would it be 'til you were too?” she smiles and Bucky shakes her head.

 

“You're a piece of work, y'know that?”

 

“I told you before, I'm crazy about you.”

 

“Maybe just the crazy part,” Bucky rubs her thumb across Steph's cheek, “me too.”

 

It makes her grin to hear it out loud, “you sure? You and Natasha-”

 

“Me and Natasha had our time, Steph.”

 

She nods, has to believe her or else she'll start stacking herself up against Natasha and that isn't fair to either of them. “Okay.”

 

“God damn it itches,” Bucky says suddenly, squirms.

 

“Never again?”

 

“Never again,” she echoes.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Well yeahhhh that's it. I want to write more about them because I don't know, I'm just really super into them now but yeah. I hope you enjoyed anyway despite of my flailing around trying to write women making out and having sex! :'D
> 
> Thanks for reading!


End file.
